


Clearing the Air

by jncar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, spoilers for 3.14, spoilers for 3.15, spoilers for major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jncar/pseuds/jncar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma picks a fight right after the funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clearing the Air

**Author's Note:**

> This fic plays directly off of Emma's charged conversation in the woods with Killian in 3.14 and also off of her conversations about Henry and New York with Neal and Charming in 3.15, only lightly brushing on spoilers for 3.16.

Emma lingers at the graveside a bit longer than she needs to, letting Mary Margaret and Regina take Henry ahead to Granny's.

She doesn't linger out of grief (she's grieved for Neal two times over already). Instead, what she feels is regret. Not over what might have been—she knows now (knew the instant his name came up her first night back in Storybrooke) that ship had long since sailed. But there is still so much to regret. Regret that he'd only just started to become their son's father before their time was cut short. Regret that Henry still doesn't remember the few precious weeks they had together. Regret that they could never grow to be the friends she'd hoped they could be. Regret that Neal could never have the family—father and son—that he'd always wanted.

A cold breeze whips around her face and she shivers, pushing her hands a little deeper into her pockets.

In a way this grave lies as a symbol of all her regrets—and all her failures. The things she wanted and could never have. The life she lost to one abandonment after another. The evils she couldn't stop in time, and all the lives that were lost as a consequence. 

It's starting to sink in that as long as she stays in this town—in this world—all her choices can have life or death consequences, and that scares the hell out of her. A part of her still wants Henry to remember—but another part just wants to take him back to where he was safe and happy.

_But we were never really safe_ , she reminds herself, her thoughts lingering on Walsh.

"Do you want to talk about it?" says a low, emotion-roughened voice from just behind her.

Of course Hook is still here. He's always here.

Emma glances at him and shakes her head, her chest squeezing tighter at the sight of him than it ever did during the memorial service. She swallows the lump in her throat. "No. I just…" She shakes her head again. "The only funerals I've ever been to were all here in Storybrooke. I never went to one before I came here, and there aren't any in the memories Regina gave me, either. All of them were right here. In this cemetery. One of the fond memories that only belongs to this town."

He nods. "I miss him, too. I wish could say it gets better with time, but it took a hell of a lot longer than most people live for the pain to even dull around the edges for me." He shuffles on his feet a little and looks down at the grave. "But feeling pain doesn't mean you can't go on living," he adds softly, his breath swirling in the cold air in front of his face.

The knot in her throat hardens and her chest aches. Damn him. He probably thinks he's being comforting—trying to "bond" with her. But his words only stir up memories she's been trying to ignore.

She shakes her head and strides away from the grave.

Hook falls in behind her—he always does. She remembers him following her, just a few steps behind, all through Neverland, and now again here. He follows her whenever and wherever she'll let him. And she does let him. She wants him around, even when he infuriates her. Even when he acts bitter and jealous that she had the gall to fall for someone else in the _year_ she was away _with no memories_ when all the while he was the bastard who let it happen. He was the one who didn't follow her when she needed him the most.

"Emma?" he says, his voice rich with concern.

That's the last straw. She stops and spins to face him. "Why didn't you come sooner?"

His eyebrows shoot up. "Emma?"

"Why the hell didn't you find me faster?" she demands, advancing on him.

He takes a step back, his mouth hanging open. Good. Let him be the one off guard for a change.

She remembers with perfect clarity the unspoken promise in his eyes when they stood on the Storybrooke town line and he pledged, _"There's not a day that will go by I won't think of you."_ So why had he broken that promise? Why didn't he come until after a stupid message told him to?

She takes another step toward him. "Why didn't you find us before we finished getting settled in an apartment that I love? Why didn't you show up before Henry made so many amazing friends, or before I got into the swing of my job in New York? Why didn't you come for me before I fell in love with another man who was lying to me and using me and ended up breaking my heart? Why didn't you show up when I needed you to?"

Tears start to well in her eyes and she blinks them back. No. She won't cry for him. Not after all his jackass comments about marrying a monkey. He hasn't earned the right to see her cry over this.

His eyes darken, his own anger sparking in response to hers. Good. Finally. No more of this passive-aggressive crap. Time clear the air, once and for all.

"My coming sooner wouldn't have been enough to stop this. It wouldn't have been enough to save him," Hook says, a defensive timbre in his voice.

"This isn't about Neal," Emma retorts. "It's about _me_. Why didn't you find me sooner?" Before she had time to fall in love with a normal life. Before she had something that she would covet once he took her away from it. She hates that she's been reunited with all the people she loves, but she still misses the home she built with Henry. Why did he give her time to get so attached? This would be so much easier if she didn't feel like she had a better life out there to go back to.

Hook frowns at her. "The timeline of my arrival wasn't entirely up to me, love."

"Why? Because you were too busy gallivanting off on your pirate adventures to try to find me before you got that message?" Emma snaps.

"Is that really what you believe?" he asks, his voice low and tense. She can see the pain on his face, but she's not backing down now. Neal is dead, the witch is at large, and she has to lie to her son every damn time she talks to him. She needs a good fight to get this awful tension out of her system and Hook has been pushing all her buttons since the day he turned up, so he might as well be on the receiving end.

"What else am I supposed to believe?" she says. "That was your tale and you're sticking to it—remember? How am I supposed to know anything else when you won't tell me?"

His body stiffens and he ducks his chin a little, looking at her from the tops of his eyes. "You told me once that you and I understand each other. For a long time I thought that was true. Do you really believe that I sailed off on wild adventures instead of setting out the very day we returned to the Enchanted Forest in search of a way to get back to you? Do you really believe that I went off seeking treasures and excitement instead of scouring the furthest reaches of every realm within sailing distance to find a way to restore your memories?" He takes a step closer to her and her heart races as she feels his hot breath against her cheeks. "Do you really believe that I wasted my time on drunken carousing instead of cursing myself to the farthest hells every time I thought I'd found a way to save you, only to fail? Do you really believe that I didn't fall asleep every night with your name on my lips—that I didn't see your face in my dreams—that I didn't wake every morning with an aching heart because I had to get through another fruitless day without you? Do you really think I _wanted_ to wait for that bloody buggering bird to show up?" His voice rises almost to a yell, and he stops himself, stepping back and shaking his head.

Emma's heart is in her throat. This is what she's been waiting to hear every since they got back to Storybrooke—so why didn't he just come out and say it?

He shakes his head again. "Because if you do believe those things, then you don't really understand me at all." His voice drops almost to a whisper and he looks at the ground. "No wonder it didn't work."

They stand in silence for a few moments as Emma struggles to collect her thoughts. His final words echo in her head, and she tries to make sense of them. She'd wanted a fight. A shouting match. A way to blow off steam after a hellish few days. Not this—this biting, stinging, aching confession.

"Hook…" she says softly.

He shakes his head, still not meeting her eyes. "Forgive me, but I think I need some time to myself." He strides past her and out the cemetery gate.

"Hook," she calls after him. "Killian!" But he doesn't look back.

"Ugh!" she stomps the ground and clenches her fists at her sides. The tears she's been fighting begin to slip down her cheeks.

Damn it! This fight was supposed to help her vent. She was supposed to feel _better_ , not worse.

She strides out to her car and gets inside, slamming the door. She cranks up the radio and tries to let the loud music drown out the anger and regret and frustration pounding inside her head.

She closes her eyes and she can see Hook again, there at the town line. _"There's not a day that will go by I won't think of you."_ And then she hears his quiet words from the cemetery again, _"No wonder it didn't work."_

Suddenly she realizes exactly what he meant. "Shit." She pounds the steering wheel with her hand, remembering that first morning he turned up at her door. Remembering the kiss he forced onto her lips before she pushed him away. _"No wonder it didn't work."_

Her heart aches all over again. 

She didn't want to let him into her heart. She didn't want any of this. But she understands him better than he gives her credit for.

He's at the docks when she pulls up. Of course he is. Where else would he be?

He leans against a railing, staring wistfully out at the water, and doesn't turn to look when she approaches.

"Hey," she says, a trace of bitterness still in her voice, "I need to tell you something."

"Back for another round, milady?" he says, glancing over at her with tired eyes. "Because you might as well declare victory right now. I'm not up for it." She can see the weariness and sorrow in the lines of his face. Neal's death hurt him, too.

"Would you just shut up and listen?" she replies.

He cocks his head and turns a little to face her.

The fight has all drained out of her system. That's not what she's here for. Not anymore. "We need to clear the air," she says.

"About what, in particular?" he replies, still guarded.

"First," she says, "you need to lay off on teasing me about Walsh. I'm not just heartbroken—I'm humiliated. Completely humiliated that after all I've been through I was still so naïve that I bought into his act. And it hurts. A lot. When you tease—when you push me about it—it just makes it hurt worse. So stop."

His Adam's apple bobs and he nods, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry, Emma. I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't bring it up again."

"Good." She takes a deep breath, remembering another moment they shared long ago in Neverland. When he vowed to win her heart. _"It won't be because of any trickery."_ And he's just the kind of idiot to think telling her the truth about how hard he worked to get back to her would be trickery.

"Killian," she says, "I never believed those things about you going off on adventures. In my gut I knew the truth. I guess I just wanted you to tell it to me yourself. But I understand why you didn't. You didn't want me feeling… obligated."

His eyes hold hers—looking right inside of her—as he nods slowly. "Perhaps we do understand each other after all."

The way his gaze penetrates her makes her stomach weak in a way she's not ready to deal with—especially not on today, of all days. She simply nods in return.

But, as usual, Killian's not ready to let things drop. He takes a step toward her, still holding her gaze. "Emma. If you came to me out of any temporary gratitude or obligation, it would never be enough. It's not what I want. When you choose to give your heart to me, I want it to be because you are choosing me for all that I am and all that I was—the good and the bad together."

Emma swallows the growing lump in her throat, because, damn it, that's all she's ever wanted, too. "I understand," she whispers.

He nods. "And know this—if you find that I'm not what you want, I'll back off. But I'm not going anywhere, lass. I'm here for you and your family. I won't leave unless you tell me to go."

Emma takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart. She believes him. Of all the people who've ever promised her that, he's the one she believes.

Though her fingers itch to reach out to him, she stops herself. Not yet. Not until she's sure. "Thank you," she whispers.

She rests her hand on the railing, and together they look out over the water in peaceful silence. She still has so much to do, but she can steal a few more quiet moments. She needs all the moments she can get.

After a few more seconds her eyes scan the ships at the docks, and she notices something. The Roger isn't there. "Hook—where's your ship? Did the curse leave her behind?"

Hook nods, still looking out over the water. "Aye," he says.

Emma's senses tingle, and she frowns. "There's more to it than that, isn't there? There's something about the Roger—something you're not telling me."

He sighs, his shoulders slumping a little. "Yes. There is. But it's a story for another time, love. Not today."

Emma bites back her questions and nods. _"It won't be because of any trickery… temporary gratitude or obligation, it would never be enough."_ She knows in her gut that this is another of the things he'd expect her to feel obligated over, and that stirs up another wave of regrets.

Someday they'll be able to speak plainly with each other. Someday they'll be able to finish clearing the air.

She hopes that day will come sooner rather than later.

With a sigh she steps away. "There's a lot of planning to do. I'm heading back to Granny's to join in. Do you want a ride?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. I think a need a few more minutes of fresh air, first. I'll catch up with you soon."

Emma nods. If he needs his space, she'll give it to him. "Just… don't stay out too long. There's a witch on the loose. It's not safe."

He lifts his head and smiles. "Concerned for my safety, are you?"

"Yeah," she admits frankly. "I am. I always have been."

His smile falters a little, but hope lights his eyes and he nods. "I'll only be a few minutes."

"Good." Emma takes a few steps back toward her car and then, on impulse, she stops and turns back. "Killian?"

He meets her eyes and raises his eyebrows in a questioning look.

She takes a deep breath to steel herself. "One of the stories in Henry's book was about my parents and a memory spell. Mary Margaret thought she'd never see David again, so she swallowed a memory potion to forget about him. And when he found her, he tried to break the spell with True Love's Kiss. But it didn't work."

Hook furrows his brows. "Emma…?"

"It doesn't work on memory spells," Emma says firmly. "It doesn't work unless both people believe in it."

Hook squeezes his lips together and nods, an unspoken question in his eyes. "Thank you."

Emma takes another deep breath as his gaze stirs her guts in the pleasant-but-terrifying way that she's starting to get used to. "See you in few minutes, Killian."

She slides into her car and drives back to Granny's, her heart racing the whole way.

This conversation with Hook is far from over. But for today, it's enough.

The End


End file.
